Addiction: Whisk It All Away
by kawaiichiisaikitsune
Summary: He'd been smoking for a long time. A very long time. And when the day just spiraled down and broke into tiny little pieces, he turned to his cigarettes as means of escape. SMALL MattMello


**Title: **Addiction: Whisk It All Away  
**Author: **daynuh  
**Information: **Anime - Death Note - MelloMatt Friendship

**Summary: **He'd been smoking for a long time. A very long time. And when the day just spiraled down and broke into tiny little pieces, he turned to his cigarettes as means of escape.  
**Note: **...I was thinking about things. Life, in general. And I remember my friend once telling me that he smoked as an illusion from the world, as a means of escape. So I wanted to incorporate that with Matt. It just...makes sense.

**Begins.**

The world was beautiful.

That was the exact thought floating through Matt's brain. The world could be so breath-taking. It was all someone needed; just stare at the never-ending horizon and fall in love. The clouds stretched peacefully across the sky, like each and every one was best friends with the others. The birds chimed in song as they migrated passed the clumped clouds. The smiling sun poked holes through the white puffs and warmed everything beneath her. The green grass and looming trees danced with the wind as colors threatened to play with the sky.

A day like this was to be appreciated. Especially with the view Matt was given from the back porch of the home he shared with Mello. But he could simply care less.

Today was supposed to be good. Today was supposed to be great. Today was supposed to be magical. Today was supposed to be perfect. Today...was supposed to be the day it wasn't.

Matt pulled a pack of cigaretts from his jacket pocket and tried not to scowl. Really, at this moment, he should be used to it. He should be used to the turmoil and the ignored pain. The hate; the disgust; the nightmares; the rejection; the world. But it got to him. Normally he could whisk it away with a wave of the hand. He could just plopped down on the couch, turn on his game station, and play until the sun tag-teamed with the moon. However, today wasn't how it was supposed to be.

He knew everything would go downhill the second he woke up. Sweat covered his body, red marks burned on his left arm, his sheets were twisted in every which direction, and his eyes were burried in images he couldn't ever recall seeing. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to. Everyone at Wammy's had a dark past that hurt them. Everyone had nightmares about fears, even forgetting them in the morning like he did. But didn't everyone also grow out of them?

From then, just the little things irked him. His game station had a glitch and wouldn't read the disc inside. His lunch, a simple sandwich, was filled with mold because Mello never did groceries. At least not for him and his "junk food". There was no work for today, so he left the house and Mello, but that didn't go over well. Frustration only builds on the streets and taking the lesser known alleys didn't help. He had run into a couple of other teenagers fighting recklessly on the road and had gotten pulled into it. He had been rather unscathed, but his tolerance was wearing thin. And when he didn't want to go back home yet, and he just wanted food, he realized he had no money on him once he stepped into the store. He had even forgotten his cigarettes!

By that time, he had given up. Today wasn't anything worthy even if the sky was a perfect shade of blue. Even if the animals all sung in harmony, or the ground sprouted the most beautiful plants in the universe. It wasn't worth it. So Matt walked home, slowly and reluctantly.

Mello had been in a pissy mood for the past couple of days, probably something to do with Near, and Matt knew to just stay away. He walked through the small yard to get to the front door, and it seems someone had forgotten to clean up after their dog as stool clung to the bottom of his shoe. He scowled before wiping it off on the ground and stepping inside.

Mello was lounging on the couch, boot-clad feet resting on the small coffee table while he munched angrily on a piece of chocolate. His eyes shifted to the figure in the doorway and his lips twirked upward slightly. His voice was righteous and a snooty, "I'm better than you" tone when he spoke. "You look like shit."

"Shut up," Matt mumbled under his breath. The last thing he needed, _wanted_, was that menstruating, androgynous bitch to start harassing him. No, all he wanted to do was forget today ever happened, forget that nightmare that started it all, and smoke.

"What'd you say to me?" Mello barked, a loud break signifying he bit another piece of chocolate off for emphasis.

"Where's my fucking pack?" the redhead reciprocated.

"My, my," the blonde said with amusement and pity, "Someone's in a bad mood."

"Forget it," Matt growled, which was rather unlikely of him and searched for his cigarettes. He heard the other boy talking to him but he only tuned him out. Nothing else would get to him, not today. He found his pack on the kitchen counter and hastily grabbed one, pulling the lighter out of his pocket and engulfing the tip on the cancerstick in flames. He inhaled his first puff, feeling every fiber of his being relaxing at the needed nicotine rush.

Matt stepped into the remote backyard and exhaled the curly smoke into the peaceful sky, where he was finally able to recap the day. With each new drag the redhead felt the frustrations of the day flying off of him. As his lips hugged the cigarette, he could finally appreciate the sky creeping over him. It was barely dinnertime, meaning the colors were really started to dominate the blue silk.

Once he had finshed that stick and the next, Matt walked back into the house and clambered down the hall. He didn't bother saying anything to Mello when he felt the boy's eyes on him. A tight frown pulled at his own lips as he refused to look at the blonde, not wanting to pick in a fight and be taken away from his decision. He fell into his bed soon enough and curled his legs together. Matt's hands were clasped under the pillow and he didn't bother with the blanket.

He didn't know how fast time had passed, but once again, he woke up rapidly. Like this morning, his left arm had red marks printed in his skin, his clothes were clinging to his sweaty skin, his eyes shaky and darting from place to place, and oddly enough his throat felt dry. As he took quick, deep breaths of air like a gasping fish, he felt a cold washcloth being thrown at him.

Green orbs darted to where the object came from, and Matt saw Mello walking in his direction. The blonde was holding a glass of water in one hand, a piece of chocolate hanging loosely from his lips.

"You should've taken off some clothing, but that's not my problem," he stated with a strangely softer-than-normal voice and somewhat incoherent, having pulled the chocolate into his mouth. He placed the glass on the stand beside the bed before picking up the damp cloth, ushering Matt back into a sleeping position, and doting it on his forehead, face, and neck.

"...Mello," the redhead started.

"You're not a little kid, do it yourself," he let go of the cloth after a minute, "And there's some water. You were screaming your fucking head off, I figured you'd need it."

"...thanks."

Mello shrugged before standing up from his crouched position. He rolled his shoulders slightly, "Your stupid game thing's fixed, too. I called some guy to do it while you were sleeping." He finished the chocolate in his mouth and grumbled, "I need more fucking chocolate."

For a second Matt wanted to jump up and kiss the guy standing before him. Mello never ever even showed he cared about the redhead living with him. But fixing his game station? Matt couldn't possibly argue that Mello didn't care anymore. Or, he wouldn't want to.

"...thanks," he said once again, feeling pretty lame. "Really, Mello, thanks."

"Don't go getting all sappy on me," the blonde said with a small chuckle, lips tickled upward. He walked over to the door, his hand on the knob before he turned around and looked directly at the gamer. "And, Matt?"

"Yeah?" he said, green eyes trailing the other's movements.

"It's just a bad day. Tomorrow'll be better." Without another word, the blonde shut the door behind him. Matt lied there mulling over the words before he realized they weren't necessarily true. Tomorrow could be just as bad, maybe even worse, and maybe today was the best day he was going to get for a while. But, as he heard the phrases echoing in his mind, he knew he could fall back on them. Mello never said anything like that, so it had to stand for something.

If not, he had his illusion to keep him in check.

**End.**

**Note: **I dun know if that got out of character or anything. Sorry. But, I hope you liked it. First Death Note fanfiction, so please review. :)


End file.
